


Of Closets and Courfeyracs

by YassHomo



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Cosette And Enjolras Are Siblings, Courfeyrac being Courfeyrac, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Humor, It's Courfeyrac's Fault, Les Amis de l'ABC Shenanigans, M/M, Minor Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Secret Relationship, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 07:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13759416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YassHomo/pseuds/YassHomo
Summary: Of course, it wasn't Courfeyrac's fault.All he wanted was to settle down on the spacious, comfortable sofa, relax and unwind, and watch another episode of the Desperate Housewives of Orange County. So what if he was technically breaking and entering? In the end, that felt like a minor detail.





	Of Closets and Courfeyracs

Of course, it wasn't Courfeyrac's fault.

All he wanted was to settle down on the spacious, comfortable sofa, relax and unwind, and watch another episode of the Desperate Housewives of Orange County. So what if he was technically breaking and entering? In the end, that felt like a minor detail. Enjolras would understand that his best friend was suffering with his tiny laptop in his lonely, unheated apartment. Courfeyrac would do the same for any of his friends. It just so happened that he couldn't, and that Enjolras met all the requirements; cosy apartment, comfortable heating, large TV and a series on download that Enjolras had sworn was _absolute garbage, Courfeyrac, and nobody cares what happens next_.

He had _just_ settled and was about to turn on the screen when the sound of the door being unlatched.

There was silence, and Courfeyrac could hear the person on the other side of the door give a deep sigh.

 _Oh, shit_.

Frantically, he jumped up to his feet, eyes wide and looking like a deer caught in headlights.

He knew had two options: stand there and face Enjolras, and explain what happened so they could be reasonable adults.

Or dive into the closet.

In the end, it really wasn't that much of a choice.

The closet was small and crowded and confined, and Courfeyrac could swear he heard someone else breathing even though he knew it was the claustrophobia acting up and it was his own loud, heavy breath. He crouched down in an attempt to look as small as possible, trying to peer out of the slitted wooden panels that allowed slivers of light stabbing into the consuming dark. His heart rate had picked up because it was _too late_ to be a normal human being and allow himself be confronted by Enjolras, and if he was caught now, he'd never hear the end of it. He sighed, leaning back slightly on his heels. Courfeyrac stilled when he felt a sleeve brush against his head.

Coming to think of it, his breathing was _never_ that loud, even when his claustrophobia was acting up.

The realisation of not being alone hit him and all he could do was freeze, and listen to his heartbeat.

Then he shrieked.

"Shut it!" The figure hissed, swatting his arm. Courfeyrac stopped shrieking, back pressed against the door and eyes widened. He faced the figure, prepared to use his fists. The figure sighed, his index finger pushing up his - glasses?

"Combeferre?" Courfeyrac asked, astounded.

"What?" The figure replied, sounding exasperated, and that was _definitely_ Combeferre.

"No, no, no, you're not Combeferre. The Combeferre I know wouldn't be hiding in a _closet_ with me. Holy shit - you've possessed Combeferre! Combeferre, if you're in there, I'll save you!"

"Shut up, I haven't been possessed!" Combeferre snapped, and Courfeyrac relaxed slightly. Combeferre frowned, and Courfeyrac could hear him adjusting his position. "Why are you here?" 

"It wasn't my fault!" Courfeyrac hissed.

"Famous last words." Combeferre retorted dryly, voice barely a whisper. "You're trespassing."

"I don't care, Combeferre. I need to know what Sheila does about her wedding, damn it!" Courfeyrac scowled. "Besides, what do you think you're doing? Practicing a new hobby?"

"He used all my coffee." Combeferre muttered, sounding uncharacteristically petulant. "It's not my fault."

"Famous last words." Courfeyrac shot back. Combeferre snorted, raising his hands in mock defeat before reality set in and the fact that two of Enjolras' best friends were stuck in a closet in his apartment together after they had sneaked in settled. They exchanged guilty looks. After Courfeyrac's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to see that Combeferre had taken shelter by lying across a top shelf. All Courfeyrac could do was crouch and breath, as there was little space to do anything else.

The front door clicked loudly open, and both of them stilled, listening to the door close and lock. Courfeyrac's wide eyes met Combeferre's, and, tentatively, Courfeyrac reached for his hand.

"If we die in here, I want you to know that I love you." He whispered, solemn.

"I know." Combeferre's reply was punctuated by him squeezing Courfeyrac's hand. "I know."

The sounds of footsteps in the apartment echoed loudly, and Courfeyrac's pulse was racing. His heart had leapt into his throat, and he knew that if Enjolras caught him, it would all be over. Blood was rushing in his ears and he clung onto Combeferre like he was a lifeline.

Footsteps paced in front of the closet.

Courfeyrac held his breath.

There was a pause.

The footsteps passed, heading down to Enjolras' bedroom and Courfeyrac slumped against the wall in relief. Combeferre, however, merely let out the breath he was holding in a slow, shaky exhale.

"We can't both stay here. There's not enough room for two people to hide." Courfeyrac whispered, slowly.

"Well." Combeferre said in an equally slow voice. "I was here first." 

Courfeyrac gasped.

"You wouldn't kick out your best friend!"

"I would."

"You wouldn't!"

He did.

Which left Courfeyrac flailing in the middle of the living room, frantically searching for some place to hide. In such panic, he wasn't able to see anywhere else to take cover in, and, spinning in a circle, he felt the rising panic overtake him.

The footsteps returned.

Courfeyrac was about to pass out from the stress.

The footsteps got louder. Courfeyrac was resigned to his fate. With one final, venomous glare at the closet, he raised his chin, so distracted in facing his fate head-on he didn't notice the flash of dark clothing barrelling directly at him.

He did, however, feel it.

He was knocked flying over the couch, a heavy weight pressing him down and Courfeyrac knew he was screaming but no sound came out. He struggled blindly, wriggling his legs in attempt to dislodge the attacker.

"Courfeyrac, calm!" The voice hissed, his hand still over his mouth. There was a silence in which all Courfeyrac could do was stare, wide-eyed at his attacker.

Who, on closer inspection, was actually Bahorel.

By some unknown miracle, the footsteps passed him _again_ , heading to the small pantry room and finally, Bahorel's hand lifted.

"Hello." Bahorel said.

"Hello." Courfeyrac responded.

"You two, in here!" Another voice hissed. Without a word, Courfeyrac was manhandled into another room. The _bathroom_.

"Bossuet?" Courfeyrac yelped, glancing between a stoic Bahorel and significantly less stoic Bossuet, who was slumped in the bathtub and clutching a rubber duck as though it held all the resolutions to his life's problems.

"I'm not made for a life of crime!" Bossuet practically wailed, clutching the duck close to his chest. Both Courfeyrac and Bahorel cringed and the squeaky noise it exhaled, but Bossuet appeared to be too distraught to notice.

"You're an accomplice!" Bahorel hissed, waving a threatening finger at Bossuet. Bossuet nodded, wide-eyed and seemingly in a daze as the rubber duck let out a high whistle of air.

"What?" Courfeyrac asked blankly.

"What're you doing here?" Bahorel rounded on Courfeyrac, ignoring his question. Courfeyrac scowled.

"Ever since I came out of the closet-"

"Recently, Courfeyrac, not several years ago!"

"What? No! Ever since I came out of that closet I have been attacked! You literally rugby tackled me! My poor, frail heart is not up for this kind of abuse!"

"Just tell us what you're doing here." Bahorel rolled his eyes.

"You first!" 

"No, you first!"

"No, you-"

"I asked first! It's only fair you tell first!" Bahorel interrupted, triumphant, and Courfeyrac knew he had won.

"Fine. I was going to watch the Desperate Housewives of Orange County."

Bahorel looked at him as though he was joking, grin on his face. His eyes scanned Courfeyrac, and the grin slowly dropped. His eyes widened as he clasped a hand to Courfeyrac's shoulder.

"Why?" The question was gentle, as though Courfeyrac had just informed him of a recent breakup.

"What?"

"Why would you torture yourself like that?" Bahorel asked, large hand moving to gently cup Courfeyrac's face. Courfeyrac scowled, swatting his hand away.

"Shut up. Why are you two here?"

"I lost my phone." Bahorel shrugged, leaning backwards to awkwardly perch on the bathtub edge, long legs sprawled out.

"And why are you here?" Courfeyrac asked, gesturing to Bossuet.

"He lost his phone." Bossuet replied and Courfeyrac chose not to question it. They sat in mostly amiable silence, Bossuet only occasionally glowering at Courfeyrac after he had gotten bored and decided to turn on the bathtub taps, promptly soaking his shirt.

Courfeyrac sighed, getting restless once more, and moved to turn on the taps again, but they were protectively hidden by Bossuet's back, so he decided that rummaging through the medicine cabinet was the second best thing to do. 

On the cabinet, there was a picture of a family - a stoic looking man who seemed to be trying his best to scowl, even when he was smiling. An openly beaming man, who's expression matched - Cosette's? She was young in that picture, which meant that the slouched, scowling boy was Enjolras.

"Quiet." Bahorel said to an already silent room, standing up and taking a half-step to the door. Courfeyrac whipped around, almost overbalancing as he scrambled away from cabinet.

There was quiet.

Then, soft footsteps. Heading towards the bathroom.

The universe, Courfeyrac decided, is a massive-

"In the bathtub!" Bossuet hissed, tucking his legs up and, before either of them could respond, Bahorel was sprawled in the bathtub, Bossuet's hand dragging him backwards. Courfeyrac gaped at them.

"Traitors!" 

In response, the shower curtain was closed, shielding them from veiw.

The footsteps were approaching, and Courfeyrac knew that the bathtub could only hold two people. Instead, he squashed himself against the wall, heart beating quickly.

The footsteps receded.

"I'm sorry, Courfeyrac, but I'm an accomplice! If he goes down, he drags me with him." Bossuet's rueful voice informed him from behind the shower curtain and Courfeyrac no longer felt the urge to the throttle the pair of them.

"It's fine. I'll be fine. We're all fine. I'll just have to find a new place."

This time, he knew where he was going. He quickly cut across the living room, ignoring the hisses of him to be quiet that followed him from the bathroom.

Although the balcony overlooking the streets was cosy at the best of times, he was sure that Enjolras never willingly went outside, especially when equipped with coffee, a laptop, and instant noodles.

Then he realised that the simplicity of it was it's downfall. Nothing was ever simple for Courfeyrac.

A grey, hoody-wearing figure was crouched over a heinous mess of green and red.

"No, we mustn't... My dear... Would be bad..." The figure whispered, cradling the - whatever it was. Apparently, it hadn't noticed Courfeyrac throw the balcony door open and hurdle outside, to safety. Courfeyrac looked around for a weapon.

When no weapons were apparent, he sighed. Instead of fleeing, he braced himself and addressed the - person?

"Gollum." Courfeyrac said. It was not a question.

"What?" The figure asked, hunched back straightening as he turned to face him. "No. It's me, Courfeyrac." 

Jehan removed his hood, facing Courfeyrac with a confused look on his face, the explosion of red and green in his hands forgotten. He then beamed at Courfeyrac, because Jehan was made purely from rays of rainbows.

"What're you doing here?" Jehan frowned, still smiling at Courfeyrac.

"I've gotten that a lot today. I'm beginning to feel personally attacked. What are _you_ doing here?"

Jehan's cheerful smile promptly dropped.

"He refuses the flowers, Courfeyrac." Jehan hissed, and for a second, Courfeyrac wondered how long it would take to do an exorcism. "Nobody rejects the flowers."

"Enjolras did." Courfeyrac pointed out, and Jehan frowned, tilting his head like a confused puppy. He merely shrugged in response, clutching the heinous mess of petals and leaves closer to his chest.

"Wait..." Jehan began, and slowly trailed off, gazing at something behind him. Courfeyrac swiveled around, following the gaze. Jehan gasped, grabbed him in a vice-like hold, and pushed them flat against the balcony wall. It was then did Courfeyrac finally see it.

A very familiar red car was pulling up next to the building.

That was _Enjolras_ ' car.

Which meant...

He slowly opened the balcony door and peered into the living room. Joly was scuttling around like a hermit crab, because of course it was him.

" _Joly_?" Courfeyrac almost shouted.

Joly, however, did shout, and he shouted a rather loud curse.

"Courfeyrac! What're you doing here?" He yelled, jumping backwards and sending whatever he was holding flying.

"Desperate Housewives of Orange County." The response came from the closet.

"What Combeferre said." Courfeyrac shrugged, pointing towards the source of the voice. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Um..." Joly began, before trailing off.

"Well?" Courfeyrac prompted, then immediately regretted it. Joly's wide-eyed, startled expression twisted into a grimace.

"You don't understand! He could get a cold and _die_! Do you want that, Courfeyrac? Huh? He has no first aid kit! He doesn't even have a plaster!" Joly exploded, eyes wild and hands flailing as he dramatically threw them up. Courfeyrac let out a low whistle, and Joly gave a small sigh of dismay, chest rising and falling quickly due to all the exertion from his outburst.

"Joly?" A tentative voice from the bathroom asked. Joly's eyes were wide once again.

"Bossuet? What-"

"Phone." Courfeyrac and Bahorel answered together. Joly blinked, slowly and Courfeyrac sighed, pinching his brow and feeling a rush of kinship for Combeferre.

"Right. There's five of us here. Me, Combeferre, Bahorel, Jehan-"

" _Jehan_?" Three different voices interrupted him.

"Hello!" Jehan grinned.

Courfeyrac continued.

"-and Bossuet. Normally, I'd suggest we run for the hills, but it's too late for that because Enjolras has arrived."

"Damn it." Combeferre cursed loudly from behind the closet door.

"At least I have my phone." Bahorel shrugged, despite the small, mutinous mutter of disagreement from Bossuet.

"Now this is just ridiculous." Combeferre said slowly from his place in the closet.

"Might be a bad time to say hello."

Courfeyrac startled and a voice that came from _under the couch_. Courfeyrac watched, gaping, as _Cosette,_ Enjolras' innocent twin sister and Marius's sweet, kind girlfriend awkwardly shimmied her way out of the small space she had wedged herself underneath. The fact that she was able to remain hidden for so long impressed Courfeyrac, and he would have been asking for tips had she not startled him.

"Cosette!" He yelped, mirrored by Bossuet and Joly.

"What're you doing here?" Jehan asked immediately after, frowning. Cosette sighed, as though being discovered was a minor inconvenience to her evil plan.

"All I wanted to do was leave our family photos around. So he'd feel bad about not calling Papa and Dad."

"Oh! Cosette! How are Javert and Val-"

"Now is not the time, Combeferre!" Courfeyrac snapped. "Come out of the closet!"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you." Combeferre replied darkly.

"Guys-" Jehan began, but was ignored.

"Why are you here, Combeferre?" Cosette asked. Combeferre poked his head out of the barely opened door. He shot Courfeyrac a cautious glower before giving a brisk, monosyllabic answer.

"Coffee."

"Bahorel, why'd you make my boyfriend an accomplice?" Joly had his hands on his hips and Bahorel swallowed, backing away, hands up.

"Long story, Joly. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time-"

"All I wanted to do was to stop by Enjolras' and say hello. That was it." Bossuet whispered, clutching at his _stupid_ rubber duck, which gave a high pitched wheeze of agreement.

"Guys!" Jehan yelled. As if on cue, the front door gave a small rattle and the group fell deathly silent, completely still and a creeping feeling of horror crept up on them. One by one, they turned to face the door with identical looks of horror.

"Every man for himself." Cosette whispered.

That set them into action; Jehan dived across the living room with one impressive, elegant, long-legged leap and into Combeferre's closet. Bahorel and Bossuet (who dragged Joly behind him) made a hasty return to the bathroom, which left Courfeyrac standing still, quite unsure what to do with himself.

Cosette looked at Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac looked at Cosette.

The door handle gave another twist and Cosette lunged at him, knocking them both back into the balcony. Just as she closed (or slammed with a strength that Courfeyrac never knew she had, making the glass panes rattle) the balcony door, the front door was opened.

"I still can't believe you jumped into that fountain." Enjolras laughed, actually _laughed_ , his voice carrying over the living room and to the balcony. Besides him, Cosette stilled. They exchanged looks, and both listened on.

"I still can't believe you were surprised. I did say I would do it."

Grantaire?

Courfeyrac was about to scream in frustrated confusion. As if sensing this, Cosette nudged him with her high heeled boots.

"I'll never doubt your abilities again." Enjolras promised. From the window, Courfeyrac was able to see that yes, it was Grantaire. A soaking wet Grantaire, who looked happier than Courfeyrac had seen in a long time.

Whatever was going on, based on that fact alone, Courfeyrac approved.

The plan was, now, to unravel the  _whatever_ that was going on.

"What is Grantaire doing with Enjolras?" Courfeyrac hissed. Cosette shushed him, hand over his mouth. He scowled.

"We should do this again." Enjolras eventually said, after intense (or awkward, but that was purely subjective) staring, and he sent a soft smile at Grantaire. Courfeyrac's eyes widened. He tried to see if Cosette had reached the same conclusion, that his best friends were secretly dating and didn't so much as whisper to Courfeyrac about it, but she was busy spying on her brother to look at Courfeyrac. He settled with exchanging significant glances with the hideous potted plant that Jehan had tucked away in a corner.

"You enjoy watching me jump into fountains that much?" Grantaire asked, though there was a hint of nervousness to it. Enjolras, although not the most socially aware knife in the hypothetical draw, sensed this, and Courfeyrac resisted the urge to clap at Enjolras being less emotionally constipated than usual.

"I enjoy your company." Enjolras replied, smile soft.

"That's sweet, Apollo." Grantaire grinned, blushing slightly and Courfeyrac blinked slowly. Grantaire rarely blushed, and when he did, it was because Enjolras had-

 _Oh_.

It would be because Enjolras had complimented him on something, and incidences such as that were getting more and more common. Courfeyrac could kick himself for how oblivious he had been, especially since obliviousness was Enjolras' or Marius's job. He settled for nudging Jehan's ugly plant with his foot.

"You're sweet." Enjolras replied, eyes tender and shining with thinly-veiled affection.

"That bastard...." Cosette whispered, eyes wide. Courfeyrac was startled.

"What?"

"He's been secretly dating!" She hissed.

"Well, yeah. It's a bit obvious." Courfeyrac said, gesturing to the pair who were now very, _very_ close together. Cosette scowled.

"Damn it. I wanted to set them two up. I _knew_ they'd be adorable together."

Even as Enjolras leaned up to kiss Grantaire, Cosette's scowl did not relent. Courfeyrac sniggered.

"They're being nerds." He whispered, pointing at Enjolras and Grantaire. When they broke apart (Grantaire staring at Enjolras in amazement, Enjolras blushing a shade of red that Courfeyrac decided would go quite well with the cream in his living room walls), Cosette jumped up to her feet. She dragged Courfeyrac up with her.

"What are you-" Courfeyrac asked.

Too late.

Cosette opened the door, dragging Courfeyrac with her.

"Hello!" Cosette said loudly. 

"Hello." Grantaire replied, albeit completely bewildered.

"What the...?" Enjolras asked, slowly, _very_ slowly. Courfeyrac swallowed, eyes darting around the room. 

At that same moment, the bathroom door crashed open, and Joly, Bahorel and Bossuet were sprawled out on the floor, staring up at Enjolras and Grantaire in matching expressions of delight, amusement, and only a mild amount of embarrassment.

The closet door slowly screeched open, revealing a guilty looking Combeferre and a completely, _blithely_ , ecstatic Jehan. Courfeyrac sighed, wringing his hands together.

"It all started when I came out of your closet."


End file.
